All Hail
by Albrecht Starkarm
Summary: Yukiko's expecting a comforting arm when she visits the Courtroom's Queen. Suffice it to say, Eri's eager to offer a great deal more.
A rap at the door. Damn it, damn it, _damn it_. At _this_ second? Is that really warranted? When you're already _very_ very _**very**_ occupied with something altogether more compelling than work? And that's all it is.

Work. And work. And work. Oh, the awards! The income! The adulation! Meaningless; less than meaningless. Baubles to adorn the wall; a few sigils and seals and medals and _wow_ , who could even imagine caring? The corner office? On the floor that your practice owns and operates? Who. Cares.

Entitled? Of course. But that's my, ah, entitlement. When you're one of the nation's _very_ few first-time bar successes; when you're Queen of The Courtroom. Fine. Fine. But this... This is one of life's very, _very_ , _**very**_ true authentic pleasures.

Enough almost to stoke the tiniest little stirring of forgiveness for that pig in a man's skin. _Almost_. Almost enough. Maybe.

"E-Eri!" Was that a keen? Yes, yes, _that_ was a keen. A lovely one; enchants, wheels, pirouettes with a sensual ballet through the ears. You can hear it; a quality like poetry in the voice's tremor, strange unknowable figures tinkling with chiming wet sexuality across every dust mote the sun splashing through the windows captures in its fugitive flit.

Delicious.

"That's Eri- _sensei_. Who the hell's at the door?" It's something murmured, numb to the sharp rattle, another, knuckles now very _very_ impatient.

This is the priority. Remember what your therapist commanded? Take at least _fifteen_ minutes every day to enjoy yourself without interruption.

Never any command about _how_.

Fingers slip deep, coil, twist, savoring the lavish hot skin in its intimate depths, the adorable thick lips trembling taut _cinching_ around them.

"Don't you love my new manicure, Midori?" Peering up at her; taut gray pencil skirt hiked up to her hips over her creamy sleeveless blouse, jacket shrugged off, two or three buttons slipped open with a few insouciant strokes and it's _credulity-defying_ how she manages to wad those colossal tits into such a modest bra. Oh, well.

Mysteries for the night's philosophical meditation. Or something. Three fingers deep now, and the only answer is a shudder, a quake, legs jerking out, heels drooping from stockinged ankles with a sudden sharp spasm when that soft luscious flesh is stirred with the wrist's quick twist.

"E-Eri- _sensei_ ," there we are. But not quite _enough_. The eyes huge and tumbling open and her nipples thick and lush and the areolae like five hundred yen pieces and the skin is soft, luscious. Translucent. The quintessential beauty.

Thighs yield under my fingers and there's only hunger, hunger, oh, a _need_ for it. More. And more. And more. That's the simple refrain. Fifteen minutes for myself. And why not for lunch? Slip apart those delectable lips and _eat_.

Hah. Not a simple meal. It should be a feast, with tongue lolling out, wet and messy and still oh so prim. Not a single _fiber_ of your own clothing displaced or disturbed, because that would just be indecent, wouldn't it?

While she's stirred, caressed, while soft fingertips stroke and brush and coax wails and quivers and keens from her with a conductor's gentle elegances and there's something absolutely unhurried in it. With Midori's sighs and sobs and the hair freed to spill in satiny auburn over her shoulders and it's a simple delectation in total candor.

That's an attorney's deepest responsibility, after all. To strike at the truth.

Once.

"Ah!"

And again.

"Ahn! Ahn!"

"Was that an _ahn_? Are you seriously _ahn_ ing like some campy AV actress?" Peer up at her, and the eyes're just _adorable_ , huge and muddled in a bleary gray wash of sexual delirium.

The lips pursed; it's almost a pout.

"I can't help it! It feels so good. It feels so good!" And now twisting open, any _pretension_ of coherence just melting away at once with a stern firm stroke at that soft spongy flesh and there's the sense that her brain should just be sluicing down her cheeks, puddling in her collar.

Almost.

"E-Eri- _sensei_ -"

"Who the _fuck_ is knocking at the door? Can't they see I'm a _little_ busy?" Well, not _see_. Even if that'd probably just be a boon to the practice.

"That's what I'm trying to t-tell you, Eri- _sensei_ -"

"Who told you that you could talk, Midori? I'm asking a question; not asking _you_ a question. Damn, you just can't find polite _obedient_ help." Vanishing between her thighs now, and there's _nothing_ like patience, delicacy.

To hell and deeper with _anyone_ who's trying to interrupt my lunch.

"And now, humbly I receive this meal..." It'd be _disrespectful_ not to be perfectly polite. Right? Closer, closer, _plunging_ nearer nearer still to that delectation, wet sweet soft fragrances rolling from those lips splayed open with my fingers.

"You know, I _have_ given you a dress-code, Midori. Part of that is proper hygiene, but you still have _hair_ there. What's wrong with you? At least it's not something a charging rhinoceros could hide in, but it's about _decorum_. Respect for your employer.

"How am I supposed to appreciate _eating_ you if I need to worry about your hair in my glasses?" There's... Well, I can forgive a breach of decorum. I _guess_. Little more than a mewling inscrutable little _sorryerisenseipromisedomore_.

"Eri- _sensei_ , Eri- _sensei_ , Eri- _sensei_." But she _is_ very polite. Yes. All of that can be forgiven; and they're adorable, aren't they? Thick taut satiny curls. "It's- it's just-"

"Am I about to hear an _excuse_?" Well, this just will not do. A firm glance up at Midori and the eyes are enormous, weeping fat wet quavering tears.

"N-no, Eri- _sensei_. No excuses. No excuses!"

"Good." Tongue flitting out; slowly, oh so slowly. A patient little graze over skin reddened _plump_ inflamed with that lust that reduces the mind to inarticulate babbling _nothing_.

That numbs the tongue and sends your sanity spilling through your nostrils.

"Then I want you bare tomorrow. I'll pay for the wax, if that's what you want. You _are_ my secretary, after all, aren't you? I'm responsible for you." Because there's no selfishness lovelier than selflessness.

Or something.

 _Dragging_ the fingers from her now, and there're only tremors flitting up through the thighs, heels rattling at the desk, and I _could_ discipline her for that, but who cares?

Pricey.

Trite.

Tedious.

It's... It's a moment of _epiphany_. Some distant instant and I can feel it. A wisdom huddled in my gut, deeper than deep, a nest of tangled anacondas breeding wet and sticky and messy and it plumes hot from them.

Who cares about this shit?

Was there a moment lovelier than that?

Transcendence. Not Buddhist; not Shinto; not Christian. Something... Mystical. Supernatural. Feel it flourish through me; feel its graceful flowers dappled with dew and there's something recursive in it, glimpsing the universe's twist and coil, the awareness that _your_ consciousness is little better than ice encrusted upon a pebble wheeling through some distant _nothing_ tossed with a giant's hand through space sprawling endlessly through the darkness.

 _This_ is my fifteen minutes.

"I- yes, Eri- _sensei_. That's- that's so good. So good. Your tongue feels _soooo_ good, Eri- _sensei_." Giggling; it's a giggle.

"We're not in a manga-"

"I can't help it! You make me feel _sooo_ good, Eri- _sensei_."

"Call me _senpai_ , and you die." Fingers wheeling, rippling through her, helical undulations, and the knees are about a half-second from snapping into my temples and there's only a simple _will_ arresting them a tension twanging through her and now, _now_ , it is time to eat.

No patience, no delicacy. It's regarding a fine feast in its grandiose scope and not plucking at its dainty little morsels with a feminine restraint, the chopsticks just obligingly _tucked_ into the sauces, through the motes and bits but just plunging your _hands_ into it.

Feasting. Hungering.

"Eri, Eri- _sensei_ , Eri- _sensei_."

Groans become squeals implode down into guttural deep gasps and snarls and the chest heaves and now, now, she's trembling, quaking, and the fucking building could be cradled in an earthquake's seismic shudder and _who cares_?

It's this that enchants me. Something sweet; treacly. Undefiled with a man because, well, who _would_ who _could_ ever crave that?

I'm finished with _that_ man.

Impale her at once; tongue lolling rolling pitching swept through her thrashed between the lips and it's to be serenaded with a voice wrought in your own design. I am her goddess now; at this instant, I am creation for her, and I will give with one hand and destroy with another and she'll only be _grateful_ and...

"What the _**fuck**_?! How am I supposed to concentrate on eating you out with that constant infernal knocking at my door?! What'm I, in _The Telltale Heart_? Did I kill anyone?" That you know, anyway. "Did I kill someone when I was sleepwalking or something?"

"T-that's what I was trying to tell you, Eri- _sensei_." Midori's voice a pathetic little mewl, fingers laced over her eyes like a child just _barely_ tempting fate with a glance at something forbidden, something depraved, something mythologized beyond any hope of resistance with mommy and daddy's admonition.

Whatever it is.

For me?

It's a glimpse through the _shoji_ at them, a tangle a confusion of arms and legs and it's mommy, daddy, what's _happening_ to them, a glance up at sis, and her only answer's the lips quirked in a demented saw-toothed smile like a barracuda.

 _That's what_ _**grown-ups** do, Eri._

Looks like a _lot_ of fun.

Right?

Ah, ah, ah, ah. That crazed yowling refrain; the absolute _candor_ in their nakedness and that huge straining flesh cradled between them, thick and palpitating and a sense that it's little more than a bit of orphan meat, swaying vacillating from mom to dad and dad to mom and whose. Is. It?

I need to know.

Mom's?

Or dad's?

Does it even _matter_?

" _What_ , damn it, Midori? Do you _ever_ want me to do this in the future-"

"Kudouyukikocalledandshesaiditwasurgentandshedbecomingatlunchandimsosososorrybuticouldntjustssayno-"

"Catch your breath, and try on some punctuation, Midori."

"Kudou Yukiko called and I _tried_ to tell her that you were really really _really_ busy with your lunch meeting, but she kind of talked over me and she was really crying a lot and she was acting crazy and said she'd need to see you _today_ or she'd just kill herself and _how_ was I supposed to refuse that?"

I guess _spaces_ qualify as punctuation.

Anguished; a palm on her tits' heavy soft, damn, it's an _escarpment_ , isn't it? A continental shelf. Delicious and plush and there's still that narcissistic self-indulgence, isn't there?

Jaw quivering with a finger's oh so _unwitting_ graze across nipples thick and straining and begging for relief.

"Yukiko? You're talking about Kudou Yukiko?" And now that would be _my_ head cocked like some inquisitive brain-damaged kitten. "Kudou Yusaku's neurotic trophy wife-slash-washed-up-actress?" Well, how can I _not_?

"Um, yes. That's right-"

"Damn it all." Head thrown back; peering up at the ceiling with Midori's luscious treacly juices still smeared over my lips.

Tongue flitting out to daub away the sticky stripes.

"All _right_. Dress, and send her in. What the _hell_ could she possibly want?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm so sorry, Eri- _sensei_ -"

"You're damn right, you're sorry. Do you know what you tell a client as annoying as Yukiko when she threatens to kill herself?"

"Um-"

"Tell her there's a _really_ tall tower. Right in the middle of the fucking _prefecture_. It even has the same name, just so she _needn't_ be confused. She should take the elevator to the top floor? And _jump_."

"A-all right, Eri- _sensei_."

"Good. Damn, your tits... You know, I almost have the sense I just- I had this _intuition_ about them when I hired you. That you must've been hiding _something_ in that blouse."

"Thank you, Eri- _sensei_." Cooing; giggling. Damn, she's adorable.

Hair smoothed; the blouse is an exercise in cruelty, nipples tucked gingerly, oh so delicately, into the bra's taut _crushing_ embrace, and now, now, that creamy bliss is just _vanishing_.

Melting away.

Away.

Away.

Skirt tugged down and panties eased up and _why_ should she even be bothering?

There's a moment's terrible ugly epiphany. I understand him. My worthless bastard of a husband, I _understand_ him.

As if that's not an invitation to opening up not only _one_ vein but, hell, why not ten or twenty, and adorning my wall with a sanguine self-portrait.

The door's opening and now, well, there's only the usual wild-eyed hysteria.

She's...

You know, she's not as lovely as your humble narrator, self-evidently, but she's definitely one of the only women even a _little_ near to those celestial heights. The long long _long_ legs; vertiginous, that's the word, lunging up from a pair of stilettos, thongs lashed around elegant arching ankles, and that _chest_ exploding through a blouse that's little more than just silk enameled on the curvaceous excess and the skin betrays a faint kiss of color from _some_ whimsical little jaunt to something tropical.

Oh, yeah.

The eyes that're about a half-second from not only exploding from their sockets but doing so with a flourish like a professional tumbler. Probably auditioning for a bit of Olympic rhythmic gymnastics on an institutional carpet that's...

Just so _gray_.

Everything is gray; even the honeyed wood that should be steeped in the sun's sodden effulgences is _gray_ with the ceiling and the wall panels.

Dammit, the floor could be mistaken for elephant-digested gravel.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" I'm sure that at least half the _country's_ dogs are now very _very_ deaf.

Arms flung around me and there's the sense that I've just stepped onto the maglev's rails.

Lean, yes.

Well-cushioned chest, yes.

The arms are sinewy and athletic and the fingers are long, laced around my waist.

"Waaaah!" Yes, _waaah_.

Both yowled _and_ still intelligible as a word.

She's a walking heap of onomatopoeia.

"Ah, Yukiko-"

"Eri, it's not fair! It's not fair! My life's over! My life's over! Oh, I can't take it anymore!" Baying, bawling.

Those would be tears seeping into my collar.

My bland gray blouse's bland gray collar.

My bland gray jacket, also, well, tormented with what...

Is that snot?

Nostrils _smeared_ on the fabric.

"Dammit, Yukiko, what's wrong-"

"Eri, you didn't answer your phone!" Can't _begin_ to imagine why. "And- and- and-and-"

"What _is_ it, Yukiko?" The door closed.

Yeah, it's embarrassing. For both of us.

Palms clasped on her shoulders; peering into eyes humongous, trembling, not only wet but about half-obliterated with tears welling up in belief-beggaring sheets.

Smearing her cheeks.

At least the mascara and eyeliner are resilient, or I'd be entertaining a _very_ statuesque Alice Cooper.

"Yukiko, deep breaths, okay?" Before I'm forced to administer a bit of Victorian shock-therapy to you.

Hell, why not?

That'd be... So gratifying. A palm on her cheek; a sharp crack, _wet_ with the tears.

Gawping and goggling and incredulous.

"Deep breaths, Yukiko-"

"I- I- I- I _can't breathe_ -"

"You screamed long enough that there's _obviously_ some breath in your lungs." And those are _very_ deep lungs. Har har har.

Oh, I'm just hysterical.

I'm a city-ravaging laugh riot.

They should send the Metro squad against me.

"O-okay. Okay."

"Sit down, Yukiko, all right? Would you like a drink?" Finally, a glimpse of Yukiko that ain't only fueled with memory's indelible impressions.

The familiar blouse; pencil skirt cut to knee-height.

And everything is...

Puce.

The hue's not that wicked.

But it still commands at least a bit of courage to wear a color that's only one letter away from _puke_.

Heaving into her palms. Fingers still immaculately manicured; the nails long, lacquered in fuchsia.

The makeup's predictably perfect.

The hair is...

"Since when is your hair _black_ , Yukiko-"

"It's how I _feel_." She's evidently a fifteen-year-old now. "I feel _black_ , all right, Eri? I- your hair's _black_." And this is her answer?

That triumphal flourish.

"My hair is _naturally_ black."

"I thought you'd gone gray-"

"You know what? That's beside the point, Yukiko." Oh, she's just a _marvel_ of tact.

"S-sorry, Eri. I- I forgot that you have a complex about that-"

"Yukiko, _what's_ the problem now?" Thank you for _reminding_ me about my complex, also. Just so fucking savvy.

"It's- it's... It's _Yuuuuuussssssaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkuuuuuuu_ -"

Without the surplus syllables, please.

"Yusaku, huh?" Wow, that's just...

Can I even _feign_ surprise now?

 _Wow_!

Shock. Astonishment. Damn, isn't that one of the expressions mom promised you your face would _freeze_ into?

Yukiko's lips a sulky quirk, a plump flare like cherry petals twisted in a cliff's jutting arc.

"That- that's right!"

"You know, that hair is really flattering for you, Yukiko." Not to be vapid, but it's true, isn't it? Heavy satiny ringlets spilling down over her shoulders, washing over the chest in beachy convolutions.

"D-do you think so? Thanks, Eri. Really. I... I think it looks nice-"

"What did Yusaku do _now_?"

"We're gonna get _divorced_! I just know it." Oh, _please_ , _not_ that pathetic squall.

The sharp shrill warble that's a serrated razor dragged across your cochlea.

Again.

And again.

And again.

"I-"

"It's all right for you! You're already divorced-"

"I'm separated." But who's really paying attention, right?

"Oh, really? I thought you and Kogorou- oh, I guess so." Damn, she's vacuous. Bubbling now into some dewy-eyed bit of apologia. "Hah. I feel so _silly_."

The word ain't _silly_.

Stupid, yes.

"All right, all right, _why_ are you and Yusaku getting divorced _now_? You know, I don't want to sound cynical. I really don't, Yukiko." It's just, well, I _am_.

Defense attorney?

Please.

I couldn't be more cynical if I were a _prosecutor_. Well, maybe a bit. There _is_ bondage-torture, isn't there?

"But _why_ do you think this'll be any different-"

"Because- because- because he's a womanizer!" And _why_ is this any different? It's remarkable that anyone can manage a _flounce_ while they're seated, but there we are.

It's obvious why she's _such_ a distinguished actress.

Oh, I'm sorry. No, no, not the _performance_. The chest; there're probably still ricochets of that quavering soft gelatin perfection, not plastic-fantastic but the authentic article, reverberating through the ether. Quite possibly enticing distant civilizations to stagger in a far-flung future through the door, slavering for a bit of the enchanting _jiggling_ that's throbbed through their worlds.

What?

How long ago?

Did you at least _clone_ her?

"A womanizer? Yusaku? He's a jerk, yes; he's a twit; yes; he's a self-satisfied-"

"He's still my husband!" _Oh, please_. And now the sulking about _that_?

"He's a desperately bad writer. I _still_ don't understand how the hell he ever sold one _page_ , much less that series. Oh, well. In a world where a boy wizard's merry misadventures can captivate adults who can dress and feed themselves..." How can you not?

"Why're you so _mean_ , Eri? You're so _mean_ today."

"I'm trying to be candid. I know, I _know_ , honesty, that's kind of a departure for a lawyer, right? I'm just telling you the truth. Yusaku? He's a buffoon. But why do you think he's a womanizer? Now, _Kogorou_. _He_ is a womanizer-"

"You're so- so _blunt_ about that." About damn time _someone_ was. "I'm not saying he's like Kogorou-"

"Gee, thanks, Yukiko. That's so helpful. So you always _knew_ that he was about as disciplined as a brain-damaged dachshund on Viagra, huh?"

"Well, it's- he's a good man. You two aren't divorced yet. Are you?"

"Not yet. I'm thinking about signing the papers any day now." Finger brushed over the silvered band that's been more a self-inflicted shackle for about ten years. "Why?"

"It's just, um... I- I don't know-"

"Why? Wondering if you'll be _all alone_ in your divorce? 'cept your fifty or sixty _other_ happily divorced friends-"

"I'm worried about my son, all right?"

"About Shinichi? Please. What the hell would _he_ know about anything? If you didn't tell him, I'm sure he'd deduce that in, oh, maybe about sixty or seventy years."

"What're you saying? That's _mean_." And now, now, the prolonged cartoonish _buuuuu_. Cheeks swollen. "Why're you being so mean to me and my family right now?"

"What happened to Yusaku being an ambulatory cock? Now I'm supposed to be _kind_ about him and the fruit of his loins? He's terrible to my daughter, you know." Nails, newly manicured, what an indulgence for me, sharply-trimmed and still darkly lacquered in indigo, rapped at the desk. "I'm always telling her not to fall for a man like her father.

"What does she know? Twenty years, and nothing'll change. And then she'll be middle-aged and lonely and miserable and paying more for a shrink than groceries every week."

"Um, what?" Never mind. Wasn't _that_ a little autobiographical? "Shinichi'd never do that-"

"Yeah, sure. Anyway, Yukiko, _what_ did he do?"

"Well, I- I smelled a woman's perfume on him, and it _wasn't_ mine. And there was lipstick on his collar."

Ah.

"Well, that was _my_ first week of marriage with Kogorou after we came back from the honeymoon. I _knew_ I should've asked for an annulment after he told me a ménage à trois was a romantic French tradition." Oh, well.

Memories, you know.

"I, um, I- I didn't know, Eri-"

"Oh, to hell with it. So, you're going to get divorced, huh? Well, bring it on, I guess. What the hell else can I tell you? Divorce him or not. If you'd like me to be your attorney, I wouldn't mind. The man's a moron, anyway.

"I'm sure he couldn't find anyone finer than _our_ firm. And you know I'd represent you. No conflict of interest there."

"I just..." And, oh, _now_ there's the sniveling. "You're so _cold_ to me, Eri."

"Cold, Yukiko?"

"I just- I thought you'd have comforting words or something for me. _Something_ nice to say-"

"Waitaminute." A palm on the desk's, well, it's not quite a slap so much as a passenger jet flattening itself against Mount Everest. "You came here, _interrupted_ my day, are taking time that I could reserve for a _real_ client, just so I could, what, _comfort_ you?

"I only have _fifteen_ minutes in an eighteen-hour day for myself. Fifteen _minutes_." Fifteen _delectable_ minutes. "Do you get that, Yukiko? I don't _live_ your charmed fucking life. Do you understand? Fifteen minutes-"

"Well, um-"

"Listen to _me_ , Yukiko." Those dim ridiculous eyes. They're adorable; they are. Huge, quavering, rippling with tears, every one prismatic and distending the cartoonish perfect blue into something sharper and more brilliant than any natural hue. "I don't _have_ your time.

"I don't have the luxury of just lazing around and carelessly living my life. Do you get that? You could just retire. From your income as an actress," oh, and that's a _hilarious_ one, "Or from your husband's shitty novels.

"Divorce him and live off the settlement and alimony. But you're here. Complaining to _me_. Someone with a _job_. A hard job; a _shitty_ job. I have the luxury of defending people, guilty or innocent, from the most stacked-against-the-defendant legal system on the _planet_ outside of maybe Syria or Saudi Arabia.

"You got me?"

"Where?" And that long vacuous blink.

"I'm telling you that... You know what? No. No. I'm supposed to be _serene_. I have an ulcer huger than fucking _Hokkaido_ that's taken up residence in my gut, and my gastroenterologist- goddammit, Yukiko, I _have_ a gastroenterologist. Do you understand that?

"What it _feels_ like to be a woman of _my_ age with a gastroenterologist? Until lately? I haven't done _anything_ but very very _very_ intimately introduce myself to my fingers every evening. But, you know what? I won't let your careless idiocy bother me today.

"'cause I _really_ have changed. You're right." Standing. Fingers still planted on the desk; that ridiculous desk.

An object of _pride_.

'cause I could squander heaps of cash on it.

Oh, how precious it is.

Validate myself in it. Thorstein Veblen, I should _really_ burn offerings to you at an altar wrought from gold and child workers' bones.

"I've just- you know, that gastroenterologist? He told me that I'd _die_ , pretty much bleed to death, internally, that something would just _explode_ in my gut and I'd look like a one-woman vampire show if I kept at it.

"So he suggested someone to me. I thought it was bullshit. A mystic. _Who_ believes in that crap nowadays, right? We're such _progressive_ upright materialistic people. But it worked. I feel _fine_. That fifteen minutes every day.

"It's to _center_ myself. So I can work. I don't even _need_ sleep anymore. Do you know how liberating that is?"

"Um?" That's quite the cogent answer, Yukiko.

"Oh, I think you should. A Taoist mystic. Not a Buddhist; not a Shinto. A _Taoist_. Internal alchemy; things like that. I thought it was _so_ goofy. That I was getting taken for a ride; and not only a _prosaic_ one.

"A ride they'd give Old Yeller before they introduce him to a twelve-gauge."

"Who's old yeller?" Oh, _never mind_.

"Never mind, _never mind_. I'd forgotten how, ah, _niche_ your education was, Yukiko." Closer. Closer. "Do you _know_ what I do in my fifteen minutes?"

"Eat lunch?"

"That's pretty perspicacious of you, Yukiko. That means _insightful_."

"I _know_ what perspi... Y'know what I mean! I know what that means, all right, Eri. You're so mean to me today." Hau... The cheeks swollen again like some campy anime cliché.

"You're right. I am. Let me ask you something, Yukiko."

"Ah, okay?" Peering up at me with those humongous eyes.

"Yusaku cheats on you, right?"

"Hauuu-"

"I'm being serious with you. You don't _only_ suspect it, right?"

"He's- he's flirtatious-"

"Yeah, right. A man who's _flirtatious_ around other women when his wife's there? What do you think he does when you're _not_? Kogorou was _exactly_ like that. At least he bothered to _shower_ afterwards so it'd _only_ be stale perfume.

"The last time? I couldn't take it. That _pig_ staggering home, with me just out of my cast, insulting _my_ meal, reeking of perfume? No, no, _no_. No no no no no. So let me ask you something else." Knelt now; an elegantly lubricated tumble to a knee, eyes leveled with hers.

A sense of myself, of the aura, the nebulous shadowed presence, in her eyes.

The glasses' sharp glint.

"Um, Eri-"

"You know, have _you_ ever?"

"Me?! Never! I'd never do that-"

"'cause you're such a good girl, right?" A fingertip, just one, _faintly_ , oh so faintly, grazed along a slender knee.

They're beautiful. She _is_ beautiful; everything. The legs _enameled_ with crisp and gauzy stockings. Are they stockings, I wonder? Fragile and diaphanous black.

"Ah, what do you mean?" Blinking, blinking, so damn _innocent_.

"You know what I mean, Yukiko. Everything you do is just to be _soo-hooo_ good, right? To be perfectly upright? For _whom_ , though? Do you get it? What? For your reputation? You're rich; who cares?

"I'm serious. For me? It was something else. Something much, _much_ different. I'm sure it's what's shackling _you_ to this crap, too. This ring. The idea that... That if I'm such a sanctimonious little goody-goody, _maybe_ everything will change.

"He'll see my virtue and be _blinded_ by it. Right?"

No _uuuu_ s.

No _hauuuu_ s.

Brows knitting together.

"Oh, it seems like Eri- _chan_ is right, huh?"

"You're mean today, Eri. I'm leaving-"

"You _wasted_ my time, Yukiko." _Snatching_ at her wrist; and there's only shock. Awe.

Hell, for _both_ of us.

Her eyes gawping humongous; my jaw taut, straining. And there's... It's not only _hunger_. Hunger is something prosaic; hunger is the stomach digesting itself. This's frenzy, violence in the gut. It's _esurience_. Ain't that a delicious word?

"W-what?"

"You've _wasted_ my time, Yukiko. You wasted my _serenity_ time. My... You know, it's the fifteen minutes every day where I'm just allowed to be myself. I already needed, I _imagine_ , to cancel an appointment with a real paying client.

"That's three hours. So I have _three_ hours. All alone. To myself-"

"W-well, even better, right? I'll just be going." Ah ha ha ha. Giggling, tittering, struggling to _peel_ herself away from the seat.

Arrested with a strength that no amount of her adorable jazzercise- _whatever_ can exactly overtake.

"Ah, Eri, something's kind of holding me back-"

"That'd be my hand, Yukiko. Do you know the _only_ real gift Kogorou gave me is?"

"Um, Ran?"

"No. Ran isn't a gift; Ran is a _responsibility_. It was his judo knowledge. I couldn't even lift ten kilos before our marriage started. But he just made me _so_ angry, all the time, that... That I started to work out.

"A _lot_. Maybe it was just teasing my body." The words are deliberate, slow, _patient_. "Sublimating all that frustration... And, you know, for all of his womanizing, I didn't need to go without _that_ often. Still too much.

"He turned me into a borderline nymphomaniac. I actually tired _him_ out sometimes. And Kogorou, for all his faults, he _is_ quite the lover. That's all he is, really. But it still wasn't enough for me. And now? I haven't even had _that_ for ten years.

"But I _have_ had a _lot_ of time to train. To exercise. To sweat. And sweat. And sweat-"

"You're- you're really kind of hurting me, Eri." Fingers _bite_ into fine slender wrists.

"I know I am. Because you're trying to stand, Yukiko. And that's not what I want. You're here. Do you know what _I_ think you should do, Yukiko?"

"U-uh-uh, no-"

"I think _you_ should be the one to take the first step with Yusaku. If you _really_ want him to know he shouldn't take you for granted, well... If he's dumb enough to come home reeking of perfume and with lipstick on his collar..." Oh, how delectable she is.

To _loom_ over her now. For fingers to settle over her shoulders like a spectacle of fine feathers wafting down, down, down, shed unnoticed by unseen birds.

Lips only an _inch_ from hers.

"Why don't you do it, too?"

"W-what? Eri-"

"C'mon, Yukiko. Don't you remember the track club? Third year of high school?"

"Ngn..." It's not exactly _revulsion_ ; she's hardly jerking away. The eyes are humongous; you could probably serve a six-course meal on those eyes. "I- I don't know what you mean-"

"Yes, you do. When we were _both_ just... Just a _mess_. Competing and competing and competing. Running; you'd win the hundred-meter, and then I'd _crush_ you in the two-hundred, and we finally just fell back about half-crazy from the heat into the shower.

"And you put your hand on my chest-"

"Ngnn... Eri, that was just _once_. It was- we were both really silly-"

"I didn't think it was silly. Your lips tasted like peaches and sweat. That soft sweat only girls have. _You_ understand, right?" And now, now, a kiss.

Once, yes.

But long. Lingering. Lips yield, luscious, plump, absolutely without resistance.

Tongues like wet satin in their coiling embrace; both of them.

No resistance from her.

Sticky; succulent.

"Ngnn..." And _that's_ her answer; finally dragged away with the lungs' fickle feeble weaknesses. Pathetic _breath_. "E-Eri, you shouldn't do that."

And that's the reason her fingers offer little protest, laced with mine?

"No? I shouldn't do that? Do _what_ , Yukiko? Do _this_?" Another kiss; and another; and another.

'til those humongous ridiculous eyes are little more than _slits_. 'til the thick lashes, heavy inky quills, simply _imprison_ them, faltering wilting into darkness.

"Nng... It- you shouldn't do that. You shouldn't _do_ that, Eri-"

"Why not? Will Yusaku be _upset_? Oh, he'll be _so_ angry with his sexy trophy wife, won't he? He's never kissed you like that, has he? Don't be angry. Kogorou never kissed me like that, _either_. Men are pathetic, you know.

"It's an epiphany I _finally_ had. After ten years? I went out on a date with a man. And it was _pathetic_. I have to say, it's either misty nostalgia finally meeting reality, or young men _really_ are terrible nowadays.

"But he couldn't do _anything_ right. This... Oh, this _beautiful_ twenty-seven-year-old. A client's son. He asked me to dinner, and, well, what was I supposed to do? Refuse? But he was loutish and crude and when the time finally came?

"I was drunk enough not even to _care_. So I said, _Sure_! Let's go up to my apartment. And it was _so_ sad. You'd be disappointed if you started sleeping around _now_. He was lazy and selfish and a terrible kisser. I just gave him a blowjob and sent him home.

"What do you think _that_ says?"

"That, um... You did _what_?" Oh, is the innocent absolutely _scandalized_?

"Oh, c'mon, Yukiko-"

"B-but you and Kogorou-"

"We've been separated for a decade. We're divorced in everything but _name_. He sleeps around on me all the time; he slept around on me when we were still together, living in the same _home_." And another kiss. Another.

"Do you know what'd drive Yusaku _crazy_? If you came home _stained_ with pussy-"

"Don't say that." Wriggling; and, still, still, those are her thighs clasped together. Still, still, that's a succulent sweet perfume in a woman's lust pluming from between them. Still, still, that's a faint _wet_ sigh, isn't it?

"Oh, when you're so drenched I'm sure it feels like you wet yourself?"

"Don't be mean to me, Eri!" Palms clasped on mine; fingers trembling. How lovely they are. There's definitely a memory of _that_.

Fine, slender, a graceful swift quirk and twist and brush between my thighs. Those _humongous_ tits, damn, even then, even jogging about three miles daily, settling on my belly.

A glimpse of those soft lips _framed_ between perfect taut voluptuous thighs.

"I'm not being mean. You're the one who's just being _pathetic_ -"

"Stop it! I'm not being pathe-"

"Yes, you are." And now, well, that's just patience _vanishing_. Fingers taste her throat.

Eyes gawping, trembling, flaring open and suddenly falling closed and, _my_ , that's a little honest, isn't it?

"E-Eri-"

"What is it, Yukiko?" Admiring it. That candid lust. For both of us. Her cheeks not only reddening but _darkening_ ; a flush coiling up through them, heavy and lavish and serpentine and there's a sexual psychosis bubbling in the black velvet places behind my eyes and between my ears and I'm _more_ than crazy right now.

I've tumbled well beyond crazy, _back_ into perfect sanity, and off onto another magical mystery tour.

Coming to take you away.

"You like that, don't you?" Adoring it. My fingers in their almost _cadaverous_ pallor against her darker skin; the flesh dimpling, yielding under the tips. Everything it its delicious soft sweet relief and even her pulse throbbing against my thumb.

"You shouldn't do that, Eri. Please. It's- you're scaring me-"

"I'm _scaring_ you?" And that's another hand falling from hers. Stealing between the thighs that're vacillating between cinched together in delicious pretensions of chastity and something definitely a _lot_ honester. "Yeah, right.

" _This_ is fear turning your panties into a fucking swamp?" Dragging away fingers stained... No, no, not just _stained_. Sodden.

Lacquered with her.

Slathered with it; shimmering with it; smeared and enameled together and it's almost an ordeal to pry them apart with the lust hot and delicious and fragrant _only_ with her.

"Wow, look at _that_. It's like someone melted Baccarat crystal and poured it between your legs. It smells so- so _sweet_ , too. You and Yusaku haven't been fucking, have you? I can't smell a man. Don't tell me he still wants to use rubbers-"

"Noooo! It's been two months since we last did it!" Wow.

Two _months_?

Oh, honey, that's just the first step in your very, _very_ long marathon if you'd like to have my relationship with Kogorou.

"Two months, huh? Why, you're almost a born-again virgin." And that would be my tongue darting out for a little _lick_.

A stroke swept through the juices.

"Wow, you _are_ as sweet as I remember, Yukiko. And those panties you're wearing... It almost feels like you were _expecting_ this. They were barely there-"

"Nya- that- that is, _no_!" Nya, huh?

Nya?

"Nya? You're serious? You're mewling like a cat on hormone therapy right now. Dammit, you're delicious. Okay. That's it. I've already decided for you, Yukiko. You're _so_ weak, _so_ damn anemic, so _dainty_ and self-abnegating, I'll just decide for you.

"You can scream if you want, but the room's pretty much soundproofed." And there's not a great deal of screaming. No thrashing.

Only silence that melts off into gurgling insensate _nothing_ the instant that I'm on my knees, admiring, adoring, _nuzzling_ those delicious thighs clutched in tight cinching stockings and they _are_ stockings.

The skirt hiked up to her hips; the seams define an elegant strata with her flesh, with that dusky soft grace, _biting_ into the tiniest faintest most achingly delicate layer of fat poured in sleek tight youth over the muscle and she's absolutely. Fucking. Incredible.

"Time to eat, Yukiko." Staring down at me; there's no self-denial _now_ , is there? "This's what you want. I think it's what you've _always_ wanted, huh? Or maybe you take some liberties with women and tell yourself that it's still _fidelity_ as long as you're not with a man, huh?"

"N-nyaaaa! I- I mean, _no_. No. No. I don't do this. I don't do this." Then it's more for me, huh?

Her pussy's...

"Wow, your pussy's _totally_ bare. Look at that. It's perfect." Sleek; supple. The familiar luscious hot plump lips and they're definitely not stitched tight together but yawning open, a hungry unpretentiously ravenous mouth and it's a glimpse of those feminine elegances, the recursive concentric quality in the pinkness darkening _reddening_ while it plunges deeper and deeper and deeper splayed open now with my fingers.

She's incredible.

Nostrils slathered with that hot wet perfume that defies language.

No word; no romance novel horseshit; no poetry, however convoluted, could ever even _aspire_ to capture that. It's a fugitive and delirious and mesmeric thing. It could only fuel a simple animal compulsion to inhale.

To snort it down like cocaine.

Damn it, it's fucking incredible.

Splay her apart; let the tongue creep closer, and closer, and closer, and the skin's dewy with sweat, sodden with her, shimmering lambent with the sun flaring brilliant through the windows in their huge exposed sprawl and there's not even the tiniest _kernel_ of intuition, is there?

Even with a telescope, no one could peer through those polarized panes.

A tragedy.

A kiss. The first kiss and there will absolutely emphatically be no fucking interruption.

"I'm billing you for this, y'know, Yukiko- _tan_?" Words little more than the tiniest murmur but they _spear_ through her, more palpable than heard, aren't they? Pummeling up through every vein; lacing themselves through every nerve. "You love that, don't you?

" _Feeling_ my voice against you? Yukiko- _tan_? I'm gonna bill you for _all_ the time I'm eating you out; _all_ the time you're going to go down on _me_ ; all of the time I'm going to fuck you senseless. Well, _more_ senseless, anyway-"

"N-no, don't do that. Don't. I- I decided. I wanna-"

"Too bad. _I_ decided for you. And this's what you want 'cause it's what _I_ want, Yukiko- _tan_. I can feel how much you _love_ it, anyway." A finger. One.

Just one.

Teasing.

Brushed between those lips, up and down and up and down and it's an elegant counterpoint with the tongue, swept and stroked and there's only a simple awe a bliss in another's flesh beneath your touch.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah." And that, _that_ , a refrain that's not only your own sexual solipsism, that's not _only_ your pitiful and faintly self-recriminating surrender to necessity. To the body's cravings without _real_ outlet, as meaningful as a bit of cheap ramen when the lust is for a fifty-course meal that'll bloat your belly and distend your clothes and reduce you to wreckage but who fucking cares?!

I understand that bastard with a stray cat's sensibilities.

 _I_ need it.

A woman; a woman's skin; a woman's softnesses; a woman's roundnesses; a woman's firmnesses; a woman's _everything_. The long long _long_ legs arching up now, dragged over my shoulders, rocking to and fro without anything like pretension now cradled in the too-expensive seat for my too-pretentious clients and the moans dragged _torn_ with the tongue's sinuous serpentine flit up and down her pussy between the lips _tearing_ them apart, well, nothing could be exchanged for that.

Not the AV sluts' play-pretend misery; not the tee-vee-rehearsed keens.

These are _real_.

Authentic.

Suddenly tumbling to a low and guttural pitch and that's _one_ finger eased into her, now, now, without any restraint, nothing to arrest it but muscles that could probably administer a bit of uninvited impromptu amputation, and she's _crushing_ around it.

"Eri, Eri, Eri, Eri! Eri! It feels- it feels too good. I'm- I'm gonna come." _Duh_.

Of course you are.

Which is why a second's being slipped inside and now it's a transition from _going to_ , future tense, _potential_ , to the present.

Coming.

Coming.

Why _coming_?

It's already here. Coming, going, crazed and wheeling and it's a worm lashed to a yo-yo, up and down and down and up and those dimensions are about as meaningful as a politician's promises and the knees are quavering and now it's not a hand but _both_ hands palms on my crown and they _should_ be worn as my regal raiments, shouldn't they?

"Eri, Eri, it feels so good. It feels so so _sooo_ good I'm- I'm gonna come again I'm gonna come again stop it stop it stop it I can't come this much!" Punctuation, dear.

Punctuation.

Oh, well.

How can you be long-suffering when that delicious soft sweet skin's clasped against your mouth; when there's only madness, carnal mayhem, jaw wrenched open, your lips staining her _there_ , oh, my, such an _intimate_ kiss, with every brush, every caress, tongue lolling out to flit and swipe and stroke with a cadence like a butterfly's wings on amphetamine and...

"Ngn... It feels so good. Oh. Oh. Oh-"

"Doesn't it, Yukiko- _tan_? That's what _water_ tastes like when you've been parched in the desert for a year? That's what _life_ feels like when you've been dead.

"D'you really want that?" Tongue rolled again, slow, slow, oh so fucking _deliberate_ , across her clitoris. It's swollen, engorged, curtained with a play-pretend modesty in a fragile little hood. _Begging_ to be brushed away; for that exposed urgent honest lust to be stoked and stroked and, ah, ha, ha, stoked and stroked again.

"I- I want it. I want more. I want _more_. You're driving me _crazy_ , Eri. You're driving me _totally_ insane. I can't take it; I can't take it-"

"Well, that's not really a surprise, is it?" Standing.

Serenaded with a likeness of the planet's collective woe.

Every war.

Every act of violence.

Every lost love.

Every _thing_ condensed into that long, slow, plangent _waaaaaaaaaaaaaah_.

"You _stopped_! I- I was just about to come again!" And now the tantrum, huh? "Why'd you do that? Mean! You're always so mean to me-"

"Oh, shut up." Awe. An arm outstretched, scribing a languid careless little arc, and there's something delectable in the sharp _crack_ across her cheek.

"Y-you hit me!" Incredulity. Is there anything more adorable than that?

Than the enormous eyes; than the fingers suddenly still on her knees; than the orgasm-drunk dazed _delirium_ still slackening her jaw?

"I know. It's _incredible_ , right? I never _imagined_ I'd love it so much! Oh, but I do. I've _really_ started to like that. Look at that. Maybe I should again." Hand drawn back, and there's no resistance.

Another sudden slap on her left cheek.

And then for the right.

"Nnng... What're you doing-"

"Oh, you love it, don't you, Yukiko?" 'cause she's definitely not struggling. Not rearing up; not doing anything but just _sitting_ , knees quaking.

Well, maybe not _nothing_.

"My, _my_. You really _are_ a nasty submissive slut, aren't you, Yukiko? That's _just_ what I thought. Y'know... Ever since I had my _epiphany_ , I haven't exactly been just content with my fifteen minutes with Midori every lunchtime-"

"With Midori? Y-your secretary?" Eyes cast off at the door.

"Uh- _huh_. Oh, she loves it. Now _she_ is quite the sub. Sort of. A substandard-sub?" _Sub_ -standard? Ah ha ha ha ha.

Oh, I'm so uproarious.

Shoot me. Please.

"She definitely loves being dominated, at least. She whines a little about the pain sometimes. She just _won't_ pierce her nipples for me. You just can't get good help these days, huh?"

"Y-you're crazy, Eri."

"And you're still sitting there, Yukiko. And- whoops." Damn, it's just irrepressible now.

Or maybe I should say _implacable_.

A sudden _tension_ in my skirt. Straining through the panties.

"Oh, I couldn't keep it _back_ anymore! That's just... Kind of what I wanted, honestly." Our eyes collectively torn down to it.

"Ah, Eri, what's that in your skirt?" Her head cocked like some inquisitive puppy; the sex-crazed eyes still manage a long befuddled blink.

"Well, I _have_ been studying with a Taoist mystic. She's shown me... How to take control of _all_ of my qi and jing-"

"Wha?"

"And how to take command of the yin _and_ the yang in my body. Don't you see it? I know you'll love it. I could _barely_ believe it when it happened. She really, _really_ showed me everything I ever wanted to know about sex but Kogorou made me _much_ too afraid to ask.

"That, and she's gorgeous. Oh, I haven't had _that_ many orgasms... Ever. In my entire life. She could _kiss_ me, and I'd come my brains out. There's a reason I have an appointment every week." Slowly, slowly. It's not a striptease.

Not workmanlike banality, either. Just... Slipping out of the panties that're a cruelty, a fucking straitjacket for psychotic desires. And it's there. Thick; bloating up through the skirt that can only be eased, eased, _eased_ up.

Not so much hiked as _scaled_.

Yukiko's eyes are enormous.

"W-wow. You... You're totally crazy. I'm dreaming; I'm _drunk_. Or- or maybe I'm having... I'm having a fever-dream." A palm on her brow like some adorable American southern belle in the throes of a fainting fit.

"This's _no_ dream, Yukiko. I _promise_ , Yukiko- _tan_. This's real. Touch it. C'mon. Touch it. It's huge, huh?"

"It's _way_ bigger than Yusaku." How candid she is, murmuring through fingers steepled on her lips.

"Bigger than Kogorou's, too. Oh, he'd just go fucking _crazy_ if he knew his soon-to-be-ex-wife had grown something like _this_. And I can turn it on and off _whenever_ I want. No medicines; no pills; _nothing_ stupid like that.

"Just this." Not that I'd _want_ to turn it off. "Sometimes, ah, it just comes by itself. Once, it happened in court. _That_ was a little hard," so to speak, "To deal with. Touch. Touch it. C'mon. Touch it-"

"I- I dunno-"

"You're saying that to the woman that just went down on you?" And now, well, why not give her _another_ shove to her own lusts?

Slipped against her hand and there's still a sense of awe with just how fucking _giant_ it is. Not, well, not _elephantine_.

Not a cola can.

Quite.

But _very_ generous. The length tumbles out unfurls and it's, well, it's beautiful. Not a man's ugly uncircumcised thing but pared to its fundamental necessity. _Not_ a cum-drooling anteater like Kogorou's.

Peachy and swollen and _hungry_.

"W-wow. It's really _really_ real, Eri?" Yukiko's eyes flit from mine to it.

And from it to my eyes.

"Uh- _huh_." Oh, even the tiniest touch is madness. "Yukiko- _tan_ , oh, oh, that... Touch me. Really. Touch me."

"I- I shouldn't. That'd- that'd just be too far-"

"So, what, a bit of girly tonguing is okay, but _this_ is too far? Or are... _I_ see what it is. You're like _so_ many of those chicks I've met since. They want _aaaaaallll_ of the fun with none of the guilt, right? Bored housewives whose husbands don't even see them like sisters but just live-in maids; the girlfriends who can barely get it once every month; the fucking beauties who haven't had a date for years!

"What's wrong with me? Why why why blah blah blah. Here's the answer. Nothing. You want it. So just _take it_." So I will. Slip it against her palm, and now there's a faint sticky slathering from the flesh opened up beneath it. "I have both, y'know, Yukiko?

"This's just... A bit of a different clitoris and, _dammit_ , it feels incredible." A woman's soft skin against the heavy hungry heat and it's _nothing_ like your own. "Oh, I still feel like a virgin.

"You're not the first woman I've had, and I still feel like a virgin. I guess the one you share your first time with will _always_ be your first, huh?"

"E-Eri, don't say that-"

"Pump it a little. C'mon." Dragging her up, up, up.

Not by the hand.

It's fingers laced through her hair; it's a sharp irresistible urgent tension and it's pulling her to her fullest height, and it's tasting her lips, hungry, crazed, tongues pouring together, mouths _crushed_ against each other's, and there's definitely no complaint now.

And if it won't be with her hands, it'll definitely be between her thighs. Slathered with those treacly juices and ground along the fullest length and now, now, the thighs, soft, satiny, the seam where fabric bleeds away into skin and there's _madness_.

Oh.

Oh.

It's almost a prayer, a mantra.

Throw back your head and offer a few _ah ah aaaaaah_ s!

Oh.

"Yukiko- _tan_ -"

"You're- you're so mean, calling me that. You keep calling me- ahn!" An _ahn_.

That campy AV extravagance. Or maybe I _am_ that fucking incredible. Whichever. A sharp _jerk_ tugs back her head, and there's only her throat now, that succulent dusky allure, the collarbone's fine definition and the veins in their fragile relief and it's to kiss, to kiss, slather with your tongue, a stern suctioning tension.

Teeth _nip_ , bite, _sink_ into the flesh.

"Eri! Eri!" No complaints now. It's falling, falling, I'm falling and _she_ is falling, and we're falling together, wheeling pitching away from the desk to one of the walls and that's _her_ shoulders crunching cracking against it and there's absolutely no whinging.

Only begging for more.

"Eri, Eri, Eri-"

"I want it. Now. Yukiko." So I'll have it. Kiss her; kiss her. Almost taste her _throat_ with my tongue; definitely _her_ tongue, wheeling and whorling and now, now, there's not a great deal of _anything_ but obedience, fingers in her hair and around her neck and dragging her down, down, down. " _You_ haven't eaten today, right?

"You always starve yourself when you're depressed, right? You just keep reverting back to those stupid habits."

"I- I had some gin today-"

"See? Don't _drink_ unless you're gonna swallow _this_." Down, down, down. On her knees. Oh, yes, yes, _yes_ , this's what I want.

What I crave.

Lacing my fingers through that sumptuous hair that's something more like a raven's wings unfurled woven into silk and it's incredible. Pull her closer, closer, cock _ground_ against her cheeks, faintly dusty with makeup.

"Ngn... Yukiko, you want to be made up _again_ , huh? Not happy with your makeup artist? I think the technique's pretty fantastic. But you need thicker foundation, right?" Oh, oh, _yeah_. Oh, hell, yes. Yes. Yes.

"I- what? What're you talking about, Eri? Let's- let's just-"

"Are you _trying_ to provoke me? Oh, you _are_ , aren't you?" That adorable deep almost _burgundy_ hue creeping into her cheeks. "You're just. _So_. Fucking. _Cute_. I want to torture you; I want to make you _squeal_." So why not?

Palm on her cheek once, and again, and again, and now that's absolute insanity overtaking her, tongue lolling out, jaws falling open, the _second_ even the tiniest squeeze settles around her neck.

"Oh, you really _really_ need it rough, don't you, Yukiko- _tan_? This's such a _different_ perspective on Japan's _beloved_ actress, huh? She's just Nihon's sweetheart, right? Oh, if _only_ they could see just _how_ much she loves being on her knees, her skirt more like a fuckin' _choker_ , about to choke on a cock that she can barely get her mouth around."

"E-Eeeeri!" Was that a _pout_?

It is.

A little-girl petulant _pout_.

"You _love_ this, don't you? You're sluttier than I _ever_ thought you'd be. It's not Yusaku that's upsetting you; it's just _deprivation_. You need it rough, don't you? Is it just your fantasies, or do you and he have some kind of sleazy 'seventies arrangement?

"Reenacting _The Ice Storm_ when you're out in America?" Jabbing it against her lips, and there's... Oh, _damn_ , that's incredible.

The gloss faintly sticky against the peak swollen palpitating and there can only be madness here. Pure concentrated carnal insanity and my eyes are humongous _hers_ colossal the lids leaden and half-closing and the lashes trembling with every breath that heaves up and down and _up and down_ through those incredible tits.

Stealing down to _tear_ open the blouse; don't bother with the buttons. Just feel them skitter away silent over the carpet and there's not a single complaint.

Tan-lines.

She has tan-lines. Oh, oh, _oh_ , that's incredible. The bra slipped off and now, _now_ , there's only the simple buoyant upturned bliss in her chest. They're not _breasts_ ; nothing as cartoonishly childishly _bland_ as boobs.

Tits. It transcends the anatomical. They are _tits_ ; luscious and plump and more than generous. The divine, genetics, _whatever_ bestows those whimsical concatenations of chemistry that dictate your future the instant your parents are stupid enough to conjoin their cells, _she_ has been its adored beneficiary.

"Eri, Eri, please, please, take off your blouse, too. And- and let down your hair."

Rapunzel.

Rapunzel.

How can I _not_ indulge her?

"Sure." It's an irresistible bliss, anyway, slipping the pins from that ostentatiously bitchy bun, feeling the tendrils in their elegant coil down, down, _down_.

Settling over the shoulders; flitting down to the small of my back.

Fingers ease open the buttons. One after another after another and Yukiko's, well, there's nothing like pretension now.

"You look _just_ like a bitch in heat, don't you, Yukiko- _tan_?" Tongue tumbling from her lips; those perfect teeth like _fangs_ from this vantage.

Drool traces lambent streaks across her jaw.

"Eri, Eri-"

"Touch yourself. And I'm not asking you to do it delicately; to be girly. Three or four fingers _deep_ ; jab your fucking _fist_ into your pussy. Do it. _Now_." And that's _one_ heel, sharp lancing stiletto, speared into her left thigh and the only answer is her head thrown back.

Is a _yowl_.

"Eri! Eri!"

"Yukiko- _tan_ , you _are_ nasty. Damn it, that's incredible. You _love_ it, don't you?" Blouse and jacket shrugged off and puddling carelessly on the floor and there's awe in her eyes.

"Your boobs are even bigger than they used to be, Eri. How did you do that?"

"Magic." So to speak.

"You're so pretty. You're so pretty." The obedience is lovely; the mantra cooed from her lips while those fine lissome fingers slip between her thighs, and now, now, rearing over that is a wet squelching caress, stirring, stroking, _impaling_ herself, and there are two fingers, and then a third, and...

"Ngnnnn... It's- it's really, _really_ hard to get a fourth in right now, Eri-"

"When I'm finished with you, I think you'll be able to mount a fucking elephant without any real problems. But, first? I'm going to see if my little Yukiko- _tan_ has a gag reflex." Oh, yes, yes, yes. Swallowing me.

Fingers twisted around her throat, tasting that hot rich sumptuous skin; stroking through her hair, and now claiming it like a fucking handlebar, pulling her closer, closer and it's not only the tongue brushed along its underbelly but her mouth her mouth her mouth and...

"Ah, Yukiko, Yukiko." Voice thick and guttural in my throat; jaw straining. "Yukiko, Yukiko. Deeper. Deeper. Take it _deeper_ , damn it." Yes. Yes. Yes. And her mouth's being wrenched open her jaws wedged apart and there's something almost orthodontic in it, gouging 'em agape _that_ humongously.

"You're- you look like you're waiting for me to give you a root canal or something." It's stupid, isn't it? Sex-drunk; manic and insane and it's only just pushing... Pushing deeper; and deeper; and... "P-put a finger inside me.

"Finger me while I fuck your mouth. If- if you can do that. I know you have a hard time walking and chewing bubblegum at the same time." _Now that's_ an acquired talent, sulking while she's swallowing me, while she's adoring herself with those lovely long fingers, while others are easing up now and it's insanity.

Oh, this's incredible.

Eyes vast and regarding her and the entire universe, peeled apart and just bared like an overripe orange. Glimpsing her and the walls and the floors and everything in a vast grandiose whorl and wheel and it's sight _smeared_ over the eyes and the senses and it's spittle's lovely wet scent on the nostrils and it's her lust, my lust, everything, and...

"Yukiko. Yukiko. Deeper. Deeper. Swallow it _deeper_. You love it, don't you? Being my whore, don't you, Yukiko- _tan_? But you're paying _me_. You take _your_ payment in sex, right?" Oh, it's silly.

Maybe.

Who cares.

Dragging her down, down, _down_ , and I'm only falling with her. Tumbling down, tumbling down, her throat straining distending with that humongous bulk, and I can _feel_ it under my fingers through her neck.

The gagging straining _wheeze_ rearing up through her and it's being spat _out_ with me, racing up behind me, about a half-second from vomiting even _with_ her very very _very_ numb gag reflex if anything at all, colossal racking coughs and that thick deepthroat spittle spurting down over her jaw and it's- it was so fucking close.

"D-damn it, damn it, damn it. I was _so_ fucking close, Yukiko-"

"E-Eri, I couldn't _breathe_!" With a few threads of saliva coiling from her nostrils. "Oh, ow, _owwie_ -"

"Oh, don't be such a _girl_. How wet are you?"

"I- I'm-"

"Never mind. I _forgot_ how poor your language skills are when you're distracted. Isn't that why they make sure you're _always_ standing or sitting in one of your scenes? Didn't- didn't they have someone _else_ even pretending to drive when you were filming your slutty policewoman movies?"

Pouting; _pouting_.

So why not jab it against her adorable dimpling cheeks?

Feel the heat pour through them; swipe it against those tear-stained eyes and the lashes are incredible, quick flitting butterfly kisses against the peak and... And her eyes, that coquettish little glint, the lust-dazed plea, the tongue flitting out to swipe along its heavy bloated shaft and her fingers' crazed pump between her thighs the stroke _inside_ me suddenly oh so suddenly vanishing into that clutching clamoring flesh to be filled and to have _filled_ her and...

"O-oh, oh, oh, Yukiko, Yukiko, you _really_ need to decide now if you're made-up enough for today, 'cause... Oh, oh, oh." Maybe I _am_ still essentially a virgin. Premature? A bit. I think.

Holy hell.

Fingers around her nostrils and the mouth torn open and it's pumping, pumping, already just... Just... It's the universe everything her fingers _my_ fingers my hands her skin it's everything coalescing gathering _condensing_ into one point not an atom not the motes flitting through them not the motes flitting _within_ those motes but the universe ground into stardust and hammered down into _one_ tiny morsel and then swallowed and digested and now, _now_ , it's unfurling again, a pebble dropped into a well, something deeper and darker than senses could accommodate, a ripple unfolding, its shoulders growing and gathering and never ricocheting back upon themselves. Spreading to impossible breadth; head thrown back but only for an instant, because there's the need to see.

To see my fingers around her neck; in her hair; her hand _on_ me, stroking, jerking, pumping, not warding away the flesh but just wringing every every _drop_ from that straining swollen lust and it's... Oh, it's altogether _too_ damn much.

Filling her throat; head ground against the palate and it's sloshing and spurting around me, flaring into her mouth, huge creamy thick threads drooling down her chin and there's still that relentless endless _ravenous_ stroke and pump and she's swallowing, swallowing.

More and more and more.

A few faint languid spurts lashing out over her chin when even _she_ can't cope with any more.

"W-wow, Eri. You... There was _so_ much-"

"I don't think anyone would've _recognized_ you, Yukiko- _tan_. I would've painted you completely white; I would've ruined that adorable tan. And look at your clothes. They're just _drenched_ with me. Totally lacquered with cum.

"How'll you explain that to Yusaku?" Manic; I know it is. My voice, my eyes, everything totally insane.

Manic.

Maybe maniacal.

Dragging her up, up, _up_. Tongue flitting out over her chin and, well, why _shouldn't_ I be a narcissist? Not Kogorou's rancid gin-jizz but just...

Purified perfection.

Femininity condensed into those fluids and there's the simple need to kiss her, kiss her; feed her another few drops and savor the creamy slick faintly greasy threads coil between us.

"Eri. Eri-"

"You need it, don't you? Don't worry. It'll _never_ be like a man's. It obeys _me_ ; never selfish. Or at least, only as selfish as _I_ want it to be."

"But you came so _fa-aaaast_." Cooing through even the fingers around her neck.

Giggling through the slap on her cheek.

The _crack_ on her chest.

"Ahn!" Cooing; quaking.

"Holy _hell_ , these are incredible. They're natural, aren't they, Yukiko- _tan_? They definitely _feel_ natural. I don't think they would've gotten any tinier since high school, would they? Naturally?" Stroking, kneading, adoring them.

Incredible beneath my fingers.

"Uh- _uh_. They're totally natural, _E-ri_." Melodious and singsong.

"So, no more play-pretend?"

"I'm _really_ horny. I think there's sake in your cum, 'cause I feel _totally_ drunk. You should feed me more. We could do shots-"

"Now _that's_ the slutty Yukiko I love so much."

"Choke me _more_. Be even _rougher_ with me."

"Oh? Even _rougher_?"

"Uh- _huh_. Maybe Yusaku'll notice if I have a few bruises." Damn, that's just...

It's _cheek_.

Authentic aged concentrated spiced _cheek_.

"Oh, fuck _him_." And that's her cheek reverberating with a hand that's not just drawn in a flitting little slap across it but almost _crunching_ on the jaw.

A sharp squeal from her lips and there's only a wish for _more_ in the eyes.

"You love it, don't you, Yukiko-"

"Talk to me like that. Talk to me like that. Be rough with me; be _nasty_ with me. Treat me-"

"You _are_ my slut. You _are_ my whore. I don't need your _imprimatur_ to do it. That means _permission_ , incidentally, Yukiko. I know you have a hard time with those words.

"Hell, anything more than two syllables-"

" _Mean_." Whining, vamping, that little-girl posturing.

"I know. I know. I _am_. And you're just _so_ cute. Maybe I should just push my cock back between those sweet lips, 'cause you need _something_ in your head, right? I know it's either that or the helium you usually use.

"What if I just squirt enough cum in you that it'll be coming out your ears?" She's crazed with it.

With the back of a hand snapped over her jaw and now, _now_ , it's hunger. Tearing her against me and it's chest against chest, those fantastic fantabulous fucking tits and they're not even _tits_. Goddammit, is there a _word_ for anything that delicious?

Titanic.

Ha _ha_.

Slipping between her thighs; the fabric and flesh and now, _now_ , that sweet syrupy delirium and it's her body it's _my_ body it's a confluence a communion it's bleeding into your lover, it's being pulled deep, deep, deeper than deep.

 _Lifting_ her.

"Wow, you _are_ strong, Eri-"

"Eri- _sensei_."

"Of course, Eri- _chenchei_." Holy _shit_. It's stupid; I know it is. And still, still, there it is, almost exploding in an _instant_ with that adorable breathy coo that flares the chest from humongous to _obscene_.

Well, probably not by _my_ generous standards.

But more than incredible.

"Say that again. Say it again, Yukiko, you nasty slutty little bitch-"

"Eri- _chenchei_. Make me- make me _scream_ , Eri- _chenchei_."

"You know I will, little Yukiko. You're such a delicious little whore, aren't you?" Hefting her against the wall; fingers dig into luscious thighs and ease up and down along her waist's trim roundness, taste the faintest whisper of softness layered over well-exercised firmness and it definitely ain't _only_ starvation.

Inside her.

Inside her.

At long last, _inside_ her. How many fitful furtive acts of dissatisfying sexual self-satisfaction has _this_ image fueled, and she's here, now, _now_ , she's here, and her ass yields a wet luscious slap against the wall, and those are our hips not only tumbling together but crashing, sodden with her and with me and it's deep so so _so_ fucking deep.

"Kya!" And she's, well, it's probably _not_ only the actress' flair for the dramatic, is it? 'cause that's a sincere flush darkening from garnet to fucking _violet_ with my fingers biting into her neck and slackening a bit and the strain's only growing again, a delectable symmetry in her pussy's groping coils.

"Fuck, you're _so_ tight, Yukiko. How can such a _slut_ be so tiny-"

"'cause I exercise _those_ muscles a lot, Eri- _chenchei_. I do it _so_ much. I've thought about you, Eri- _chenchei_. A lot. A lot."

"Of course you have. How could you _not_?" Oh, the narcissism.

Her hair's _mine_ ; and mine's _hers_.

Almost pathetic, ain't it? If only I could exchange bodies with her.

Almost.

Writhing, rippling together, and there's a prayerful quality in _this_. In tasting the sweet soft skin wound around me, that serpentine caress, swallowed by her and swallowing her and we're some demented sapphic Ouroboros and _who_ fuckin' cares about anything but just that immediacy?

"Eri- _chenchei_ , Eri- _chenchei_ -"

"Dammit, I'm- I'm going to fucking _flood_ you."

"Do it. Do it. Come inside me if you caaaaan! Come inside me as much as you want-"

"I'll ruin you; I'll turn you into a cum-spattered _wreck_. You'll never be fuck _anybody_ but me anymore. Do you understand, my little Yukiko slut?"

"Ah- _huh_." _Feeling_ the words struggle out of her throat; the long slow nod and I'm fucking _dying_.

Pumping, pounding, _hammering_ into her.

That's her cervix, isn't it? Something like a pair of lips _cinched_ against the head and if I could? If I could? I'd be buried in her womb; I'd be grinding deeper than even that. She'd be feeling me jabbing through her belly but I _guess_ I'll offer her a bit of forbearance today.

'cause I'm just so kind.

"I- I'm gonna come inside you. I'm gonna fucking _floood_ you, Yukiko, you little slut. You're gonna get the pay you _want_."

"Do it. Do it. Do it, Eri- _chenchei_. Give me _your_ perfume."

Oh, holy hell.

Yes.

Flooding her.

Drenching her.

Feeling it rear up from those deep and fanged places and it's implosive, settling down there, and exploding up again, and, dammit, this'll exhaust my qi. I know it. I. Don't. Care. So the yang'll be a _bit_ uncooperative for a few hours.

Oh, what a _tragedy_.

Spurting around me, coiling thick and creamy over her ass, puddling on the floor, and there's only the will to continue, more and more and more.

Tossing her across the desk and it's thighs splayed, it's her high high heels jabbed into the carpet, it's a bubbly delicious ass and curvaceous hips and my fingers pulling her back by the hair, and now _that_ is quite the handlebar, isn't it?

Palm cracking with a rhythmic quick regularity on her ass, staining those dusky cheeks darker.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" And that's her refrain.

This is the melody I _crave_.

"Pour more inside me, Eri- _chenchei_!"

"Oh, I _will_ be, my slutty little Yukiko. Dammit. Dammit." Ground against her hips; straining pummeling pumping and now, _now_ , she's twisted on her back, and _this_ is what could only be craved.

The thighs slathered with us; with that sticky smeared lust and with cum in its creamy stripes encrusted on the stockings, rejuvenated with the heavy tendrils pouring down from her.

Tear it from her pussy and the lips still gawp apart; still confront me with that delicious crooked smile, yawning open.

"I've _really_ broken you, haven't I, Yukiko- _tan_?"

"Uh- _huh_." The nod's only supersaturated exuberance. "You have, Eri- _chenchei_. But you're so good, it'd be _horrible_ if you didn't. I'd be so disappointed. You're not being rough _enough_."

No?

"Where the _hell_ did this nasty slutty need come from, Yukiko?" Who _cares_? Who _cares_?

Tear her closer, closer. Her spine in its elegant bowed grace _arching_ now; ass on the table and cum smearing itself over promiscuously littered papers and, well, that'll just be the notary's problem, won't it? Ha ha ha.

Her ass splayed apart; her fingers imploring, scrabbling over my chest; hand laced around her nape, the other stealing between her thighs, _digging_ into her pussy around the cock distending it.

"Yaaaaah!"

"What, you wanted more, didn't you, Yukiko- _tan_? You wanted more to fill your naughty pussy, right?" One finger. One finger, and it's a strain, the lips that coiling taut _mouth_ crunching around me dimpling my cock with my own flesh and it's still a need for a second. "Too bad I haven't learned how to grow a second cock yet.

"Now _that_ would be delicious, wouldn't it? Could you take _two_ in your slutty pussy, Yukiko? Oh, why am I _bothering_ to ask? I'd just jam it in. Your screaming's _so_ lovely."

"Ah, ah, _ah_." Stroking her stroking _me_ while the cock plunges pumps tears deeper, deeper, lavished with that heavy wet squelch in cum ripped with the thick bloated head's every scrape across her. "Eri, Eri, Eri!" And she's, well, _broken_.

Deliriously.

Eyes open huge and glazed and jaw slack and tongue lolling out and who can upbraid her about the honorifics _now_?

A second finger inside her with me.

And a third.

"Eri, Eri, Eri!" That's _probably_ the threshold.

Still.

Still.

"Mmm... _Soon_ , Yukiko. I'll show you that you can be a _real_ slut. You'll _love_ two in your pussy. Believe me. Believe me. Would I lie to you?"

"Y-you _are_ a lawyer." Oh, now that was just _nasty_. Begging for discipline and she _will_ have it.

Pull the hair and slap slap slap at her cheek and there's only the delectable yowls screams yodeling around me and now, _now_?

There's not even the strength for her to support herself, splayed out across the desk, jerking shuddering her nipples limning huge artful orbiting arcs with every pump and my hands're needed _elsewhere_ , teasing and adoring her tits wringing sharp yips and long plaintive yowls from her mouth with twists and tugs at those pert peaks.

"Yah. Yah. _Kyaaa_." Kya, kya, kya.

Screaming and screeching.

"Yukiko, Yukiko-"

"M-mess me up like you promised. Don't just put the last one inside me." Holy _hell_.

The eyes flaring.

Begging.

"W-what-"

"Please, please, _please_ , Eri. Eri. Pour it all over me. Stain me. Make me smell like _spring_ ; make sure he knows I'm _covered_."

Fuck.

"Put it in my hair; put it _all_ over my face and my dress. Please, please, _please_. Make me look like I just came back from an AV audition-"

"Now _you_ are quite the demented little bitch, aren't you, Yukiko?" Worn, ah, with pride.

"Uh- _huh_."

"Maybe I _should_ film this."

"Q-Queen of The Courtroom and Kudou Yukiko? W- we'd make _soooo_ much money-"

"Who the fuck cares about money. I was just thinking about for _me_. In those moments when I _don't_ have your nasty pussy and your... Oh, I'm _definitely_ fucking your ass when we do this again."

"A-again?" Is it possible for her eyes to be any huger?

No longer only platters.

They could probably be slipped comfortably around Jupiter.

"Ah, _yes_. You belong to _me_ , now, Yukiko. You are _my_ little whore; you are _my_ cock-slave. My cock-sleeve. After all, I've put _so_ much effort in breaking you around me. It'd be _horrible_ to just let you go now.

"'sides, you're a junkie for me. I _know_ it. I _feel_ it. C'mon. C'mon." Pull her closer, closer, and it's lips, tongues, hair tangled together.

Sweat and skin and fingers and frenzy and now, now...

"P-pour it all over me! Mark me, and I'll be yours, Eri!" How can I refuse? Whatever the regret in dimming that wet hot clutching perfection, well, I _am_ ultimately a servant of the greater good, aren't I?

Whatever that greater good is.

The deepest selfishness is selflessness. Blah, blah, _blah_.

And she's just slipping down, bone-weary, _boneless_ , dreamy delirious, eyes humongous upturned _imploring_ hands cradling her cheeks and beseeching.

"Paaaaint me, Eri. Please. Please."

"Right-"

"Give me a _big_ facial. Right now. You need to make amends for ruining my makeup, after all." And it _is_ ruined; the foundation ravaged, somehow, even immaculately airbrushed, the, ah, waterproof _anything_ running and distorted and twisted in its elegant geometries into ragged black madness and the blush has just been displaced with a huge natural one and, well...

It's here.

Jabbed between her lips, a last one and two and three pumps and there's intuition now, _pushed_ away, what a presumptuous bitch, fingers laced around me and jerking stroking _begging_ and, well, there's something almost dazzlingly artful in this.

In the enormity that's suddenly _springing_ from the flesh.

In a flourish that's as much sexual performance art as anything else.

Huge gobbets splashing spurting spattering over the cheeks; racing up through her hair, creamy highlights stitched into that lovely sweat-shimmering colorless obsidian sheen and enameling closed an eye completely, the other just _draped_ with it, plunging from brow to cheek and now drooling down her jaw, across her chin, sloughing over her tits and vast pale smears coalesce on her skirt, her stockings, even paint her black heels nacre.

Holy _hell_.

Drained.

That's the word; knees trembling and crumpling down to kiss, kiss, _kiss_ her. Tongue dragging heavy quaking threads between her lips and it's _mine_ and it's absolutely delicious.

"Eri, Eri, Eri."

"Yukiko, Yukiko." Language isn't only fugitive but has made good its escape and is now sipping mai tais on platinum sands with some top-heavy bronzed goddess draped over its lap.

Only her name.

Only _mine_.

Savoring the cum; slipping spilling between us, gathered and thickening with spittle and she's just...

"Now _that_ isn't fair, Yukiko." A long _swallow_.

"What?" Her tongue still stained with a few pallid streaks. "It's good; _I_ wanted it-"

"You're such a greedy bitch, aren't you?"

"Uh- _huh_."

"You really going home like _this_?"

"Uh- _huh_. I've got a private driver, after all. It's not like I need to worry about anyone recognizing Kudou Yukiko like _this_. Even if that'd be...

"Oh, maybe I _should_ audition for AV. Have so many young men-"

"And women."

"That's true, isn't it?" Not even a little self-satisfied. "Not just touching themselves fantasizing about me, but _seeing_ it happen."

"Nah. It'd ruin the imagination, Yukiko."

"Fair enough. And you're enough for a one-woman gangbang."

"Why, I'm just _scandalized_ that you'd say something like that, Yukiko."

"Gonna punish me again?" Oh, _yes_. "I need to go, though, Eri- _chan_. Come over later tonight?"

"Will _he_ be home?"

Lips pursed.

Peering at fingers enameled more with cum than polish.

"Huh." Head nodded once, twice.

As if she's counting her fingers.

And then once again, just to be sure nothing's changed in the interim.

"Well-"

"I don't really think I care." Quite the conviction. A languid little chirrup; her shoulders thrown into an achingly glorious pivot and undulation that's only _ostensibly_ a shrug in its bare geometries.

"Really?"

"Are _you_ mad about that? Having me _worship_ you, Queen of The Courtroom?" Oh, oh, _oh_ , that _smile_. Those eyes through lashes still quivering and matted with cum.

"Hail to the queen."


End file.
